


The Healing Power Of A Hug

by teenybirdy



Series: My Favourite Place Is Inside Your Hug [1]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/F, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-10 12:07:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20135188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenybirdy/pseuds/teenybirdy
Summary: "Is there anything I can do?""Just let me hug you for a while."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is just a quickie prompted from a shared image over on Facebook's DWP - MirAndy page. The usual disclaimers apply, don't own them, don't make $$ off them.

The first time it happened, Andy had been stunned by her behaviour but she hadn't been able to resist after Miranda bravely bared her soul to her in that Parisian hotel suite.

She had asked Miranda if there was anything she could do, and as Miranda struggled to answer, she stepped forward and pulled Miranda off the couch and into her arms.

Admittedly Miranda had stiffened, before sinking into the embrace and letting her tears flow but once she was back in control of herself, the editor pulled away and told Andy to do her job.

The next day, after a night spent miserably drunk beside Christian Thompson, Andy left.

She found herself unable to deal with the bullshit office politics as Irv attempted his coup and Nigel had his dreams dashed to save Miranda's position at Runway.

But more than that, Andy couldn't look at Miranda without seeing the vulnerable woman she'd glimpsed the evening before, and rather than letting the older woman spot the love she now knew she felt and deem it pity, tossed her cell into Les Fontaines de la Concorde before packing her stuff and maxing her emergency credit card to get the first flight home.

Miranda, amazingly enough, didn't blacklist her, although she did deign to advise her proposed employer that Andy Sachs was her greatest disappointment. She finished the reference by adding that they'd be idiots not to hire her.

It was a backhanded compliment that stunned Andy and spotting Miranda on West 49th as she navigated the busy foot traffic of Midtown Manhattan, she offered the editor a bright smile and a wave.

If life was anything like the movies that would have been where things ended between her and Miranda. After that brief moment where it seemed Miranda looked right through her, she met Nate for coffee, and he seemed genuinely disappointed about her new job, clearly having hoped they could make a go of things in Boston.

As she travelled home on the Subway, she reflected on the past year. She had moved to New York and managed to stand on her own two feet, she had got a job and seen out her time as Miranda's assistant, although it wasn't the full year that was expected. Andy had grown up a lot and now understood the world didn't owe her a damn thing. If her relationship with Miranda Priestly taught her anything it was that life was tough, but she was tougher. She could achieve the impossible if only she persevered.

Not thirty minutes after arriving back at her shitty apartment, there was a loud rapping at her door.

Andy frowned and glanced through the peephole, you couldn't ever be too safe, especially in New York City. She was stunned to see Miranda, shuffling from foot to foot, in her dusty hallway.

Pulling the door open, she was forced back as Miranda thrust herself into her personal space, her arms wrapping tightly around her waist and clutching her sweater as if it was a life raft.

"Miranda, what..." Andy trailed off as the older woman took a shuddering breath. Unable to resist, she pulled Miranda tight against her chest, running soothing circles against her back. "It's okay." She whispered. "It'll be okay."

Miranda sighed and pulled away, looking anywhere but at Andy. "I'm sor..." Miranda hesitated, swallowing her apology. "...I should just..." She gestured airily to the door before turning on her heel and letting herself out.

Life was certainly nothing like the movies.

When the press ramped up their coverage of Miranda's divorce, Andy inhaled the visual evidence that left her worried. She could easily see Miranda was struggling. She could spot it in the tenseness of the editor's shoulders and the dark shadows the concealer couldn't always hide.

The gossip page took delight in announcing Miranda had sent her twins to their father's in Upstate New York, where they were now completing their schooling via correspondence courses organised through Dalton Academy.

The thought of Miranda being alone was too much for Andy to bear. Unable to stop herself, she decided to use some of the Benneton Graveur stationery she'd purchased in Paris to write the editor a note.

She made several rough drafts, tossing away her attempts before settling on something and putting pen to paper neatly. She hoped her words would provide the editor with a modicum of comfort. and that Miranda would see it for the gesture it was rather than believing she was attempting to gain anything from her.

_Miranda, _

_I know that at the moment you may be hurting and that you may be feeling low and perhaps seen like every breath is hard work, but you're strong, the spark inside you has yet to go out. No one has the power to do that to you, not Stephen, Irv and especially not the assholes from Page Six. _

_What's happening in your life might make it seem like a never-ending cycle of bad days, and you no doubt feel overwhelmed by all that is happening. Just remember that there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. Find that glimmer of hope you have lived on, and hold on to it. _

_The hard part about what you are going through is that to look at you, no one would know that you are hurting, no one sees the wounds you are trying so hard to keep hidden, except those of us you who care enough to see beyond the walls you have erected around yourself. _ _You may think you've done a good job at masking your pain, at putting on a smile, and you have, to an untrained eye. But I see through it, Miranda. I see the tears you've cried, the anxiety you feel over the way your life has turned out. I see these written all over your body. I see the physical, mental and emotional pain dimming your beautiful eyes where I am used to seeing them sparkle. _

_If there's one piece of advice I can offer you from what I've learned over the last year, it's that it always gets better. _

_Chin up, my Queen. I can see your beautiful crown is falling and you must find the strength to keep it up. _

_Although you are the strongest woman I know, there are times, you may feel you need someone. So, I wanted you to know I'm here if you ever need a shoulder, a hug or even someone to take to task. You are not alone. _

_Love, _ _Andréa._

Making her way uptown under the cover of darkness, Andy was stunned to see the townhouse shrouded in darkness and luckily there seemed to be no paparazzi lurking.

Moving up the stoop, Andy pushed her letter through the letterbox. Moving slowly back down the stoop, she heard the door opening behind her and spun around to face Miranda. She noticed the letter held unopened against her chest.

The look in Miranda's eyes was enough for Andy to act swiftly. Jogging back up the steps, she stood in front of Miranda until she stepped back to let her in. Waiting for the door to close, she shuffled uncertainly as Miranda gestured for her to follow her down the hall without uttering a word.

As she stepped into a low lit study, Miranda dropped the letter on her desk before pushing herself into Andy's arms.

Once again, Andy held the woman gently as she clutched at her jacket. "What's wrong, Miranda?" Andy asked softly, breathing in the unique scent of the woman in her arms.

"I'm just so tired." Miranda sighed.

"Is there anything I can do?" Andy asked.

"Just let me hug you for a while." Miranda requested almost shyly.

Andy tightened her hold, offering Miranda the comfort she needed. They stood like that for a few minutes until Miranda pulled away and taking Andy's hand, she led her to a comfortable sofa.

Andy sat and pulled Miranda down next to her, wrapping the older woman up in her arms once again.

Miranda sighed and rested her head against Andy's chest, her arm wrapped around her waist. The editor's warm breath ghosted across her skin where her blouse parted at the collar and she struggled to remain unaffected by the closeness of the woman she loved.

Looking down, she noticed Miranda's eyes on her face, the low light left them cast in shadows but Andy easily saw the blaze of relief in them.

Miranda cast her eyes away, burying her face in the crook of Andy's neck. Her words, breathed against Andy's skin were low, but not low enough that Andy wouldn't catch them. "I feel so safe when I am with you."

Andy swallowed the emotion created by the words and tears sprang into her eyes. "You are not alone now, Miranda. I'm here and I'm going nowhere." She murmured, kissing Miranda's head lightly.

Miranda's arms wrapped around her even tighter, holding Andy as if she would never let her go.

**xxxxxxxxxx**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my one-shot became a double-shot (a bit like my coffee habit)
> 
> This is from Miranda's POV. (Why is it when trawling through Miranda's mind I end up doubling the word count?)

Miranda was stunned when she entered her suite of rooms shortly before dinner to find a large envelope addressed to her. Turning the envelope over, she spotted the return address was that of a legal firm in Manhattan.

Tearing open the envelope, she pulled out the stack of paperwork and put on her glasses. Looking down, she gasped as she read and her eyes fell closed against the sight of the petition for divorce.

Tossing the paperwork down on the small coffee table, Miranda felt her fury growing and it caused tears to form in her eyes.

Shrugging out of her blazer, she threw it to the side and stalked furiously to the bedroom, ignoring the angry tears as they cascaded down her face, and stripping the clothes from her body almost blindly.

Moving to the en-suite bathroom, Miranda set the shower on hot and stepped under the spray, not taking her usual care with the removal of her makeup. Sliding down the wall, she wrapped her arms around her knees as her head settled on them and let her tears continue to fall.

She couldn't believe Stephen had initiated divorce proceedings after he had reassured her he would be there for her this week after she coaxed promises a few weeks before in the middle of one of their brief sexual encounters. Miranda had honestly believed he had understood how important this week and the luncheon were to her after she advised him of the measures she had put into place to ensure her position at Runway was safe.

As she let herself cry, she forgot her plans to tell Nigel about the changes to come and time passed while she looked through the mass of legal paperwork or out of the window at the Parisian skyline.

Irreconcilable differences.

She shook her head. She would certainly show Stephen just how irreconcilable their differences were. His claims she was emotionally cold and incapable of finding a balance between her work and home life were absurd. It was true she was not particularly touchy-feely but she did care deeply about so very much.

Miranda knew Stephen had been seeking solace elsewhere, but after he called her old and frumpy, the last thing she felt inclined to do was to grant him his so-called conjugal rights. She sent a text to her usual P.I to gather all of the information gathered about Stephen's moments of infidelity.

Andréa's presence as she entered the room interrupted her dark thoughts. Using the folds of her grey robe, she tried to hide her tears. She had not been expecting to see the young woman that evening as she had given her the night off.

Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was almost time for the after-dinner events; the meet and greets and after-show parties where she would be expected to force a smile on her face and schmooze.

Looking up, she caught the soft exclamation of surprise as Andréa realised she was present in the room. She met the bright, intelligent gaze of the young woman and saw the shock filtering in her dark expressive eyes.

Miranda found herself clearing her throat as she tried to speak about the need to go over the seating plan and couldn't stop herself from making a caustic comment about Andréa moving at a glacial pace. As she forced herself to discuss the changes needed, her voice was hoarse from the hours spent crying but she needed to keep control of herself.

She could sense Andréa's rising concern as she queried things but couldn't allow herself to lose the little focus she had. She reeled off instructions regarding the need to contact her P.R team to minimise the press but then her thoughts filtered to her precious Bobbsey's and she broke down.

Andréa offered to cancel her evening and she waved off the need. She wouldn't give Irv or anyone else the satisfaction of seeing her beaten by this mess but Andréa was different, she was loyal.

When Andréa asked if there was anything else she could do, she was stunned by the offer and noted the compassion in the younger woman's eyes, Miranda couldn't even formulate a response.

And then the most unexpected thing happened, she felt herself being pulled from the corner of the sofa she was seated upon and wrapped in long arms. She stiffened, no one ever embraced her so willingly, not since she had been a child, except for her own girl's.

Andréa offered a sustained embrace, one she didn't want to bring to a grinding halt. The hug left her feeling somewhat revived. Andréa's warmth was like nothing she had ever experienced before and she found herself relaxing into the hug as her tears escaped once more. Yet, this time, they weren't tears of anger but relief. She had her Andréa and believed she could face the next difficult chapter of her life, safely in the knowledge she had someone beside her who cared.

Miranda took the time she needed to get herself together. She couldn't allow herself to fall apart, not when everything she had worked so hard for was on the line. Taking a deep breath, she pulled back and told Andréa the only thing she needed was for her to do her job. She caught the flash of hurt in those beautiful doe eyes and cursed herself for being so cold.

Perhaps Stephen was right in his claims she was emotionally challenged.

The night passed sleeplessly and the following morning as she met with Irv and pressed her list into his hand, a loud knock at the door broke her focus.

Irv answered the door, as was his right due to the meeting being in his hotel suite, and she was shocked by the sight of her assistant, still wearing clothes from the night before, as she babbled nonsensically.

She dismissed the brunette entirely, pushing away her agitation at the sight of the young woman who had just come from wherever she had spent the night. Miranda remembered Nigel whispering to Jocelyn that his Six was having dinner with some writer.

What was his name again?

She racked her brain until the name popped up from the far recesses of her mind. Christian Thompson. Miranda frowned, realising how she knew the name. Christian had been one of the people working with Jacqueline and Irv to take Runway from her. She decided she would wait until they were back in New York before making him pay for his disrespect of her and her Andréa.

Later that day, Miranda offered Andréa a rare compliment and in return, her beautiful young assistant left her and she watched as she flung her cell into the fountain across the road.

The young woman's desertion from her side on that rainy day in Paris hurt more than the loss of Stephen and searching her heart, she finally understood why.

In Andréa's arms, she had garnered a brief glimmer of hope that once her world righted itself she would be able to manoeuvre the young into a permanent place in her life outside Runway. The younger woman had somehow embedded herself in Miranda's heart without her realising.

Miranda had not foreseen just how much she would miss the brunette's presence in her life, those wide beaming smiles, the small, throaty chuckles when she was deeply amused by something particularly witty she'd said nor the deep affection in expressive pools of chocolate.

Miranda could not let herself regret taking Andréa to Paris over Emily. Emily simply wasn't a patch on the efficient young woman who had tossed her company cell into that fountain with such aplomb.

Over the following week, she talked herself out of blacklisting the woman, knowing she would lose any opportunity to watch the woman grow. Instead, when a call arrived at Emily's desk requesting a reference, she called out and advised she would handle it.

Closing the door to her office that afternoon, in a rare moment of peace, she placed a call to the number Emily had provided and introduced herself to the Editor in Chief of the New York Mirror, Greg Hill. She told him, in no uncertain terms that Andréa Sachs was her greatest disappointment but he would be an idiot if he didn't hire her.

She had no idea if he would take her words to deny the woman her dream job, or if he would take them and arrive at the conclusion she was a rarity. She sincerely hoped for the latter.

The rest of the week rushed by, as it always did, with her team's incompetence reaching epic heights as no less than two new second assistants arrived and departed in quick measure. It seemed to be impossible to find someone fashionable who was suited to the position.

Stalking from Elias Clarke, she placed a call to the newest Emily upon noticing her car was not waiting. As she hissed about her ineptness she caught sight of the young woman who had been haunting her thoughts.

Andréa greeted her with a bright smile and a small wave but she could not return the greeting. Sweeping her Gucci sunglasses from her face, she stared at the woman and her thoughts flew back to that moment in Paris, wrapped up in Andréa's arms. She fought against the urge to fling herself across the busy road and into the other woman's arms.

How was it that Andréa had gotten under her skin so effectively?

How was it that she no longer felt like herself when faced with the woman's beauty?

Sliding into her car as it came to a stop in front of her, she couldn't stop her small smile. The impossible, impudent young woman was someone she wanted in her life, even after everything.

Noticing Roy had failed to move, she glared at him through the rear-view mirror. "Go." She hissed, placing her sunglasses back onto her face and watching the foot traffic intently, hoping to catch sight of the brunette once more before reaching her lawyer's office.

As her lawyer reeled off his thoughts on how to handle the divorce, Miranda let herself contemplate that moment in her hotel suite. Andréa's hug, the strength of the embrace wiped away her sorrow.

"He's wanting half of everything, claiming you were emotionally unfaithful." Her lawyers voice cut through her thoughts.

"Pardon?" She hissed.

"With Runway." Her lawyer grinned. "It's absurd really, and he does not have a leg to stand on."

Miranda felt a wave of relief crashing over her. Stephen couldn't know of her growing attachment to a certain doe-eyed young woman, although he'd made various snide comments about her since the gala.

Excusing herself, with a final word about ensuring he left the marriage with nothing, Miranda moved out of her lawyer's offices and swept into the waiting car. She couldn't quite face returning to Runway just yet.

Glancing warily at Roy, she spoke softly. "You know where Andréa lives?"

"Yes, Miranda," Roy answered.

"Take me there." She looked away and watched the city passing as they headed slowly towards the Lower East Side.

Twenty minutes later, she found herself stood outside a door between a coffee shop and an Italian Deli. The door was open and she could see the dark staircase that would take her to the third floor, to Andréa.

She moved quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, and curling her hand into a fist, rapped her knuckles against the door. As it opened, she pushed herself forward, kicking the door closed behind her and launched herself at Andréa.

Her hold was ferocious, she knew that it would concern the younger woman, but for the first time since that night in Paris, she felt herself basking in the forgiveness that was clear in the way Andréa rubbed her back soothingly. She realised just how much this was needed, she needed this moment to redeem her faith, to know someone cared, even if it was only in this fleeting moment in time.

She wanted to kiss Andréa. She wanted their embrace to last an eternity. But it was n impossible hope. She was the Devil in Prada, the one who pushed husbands away, the one who was emotionally distant and put her work above everything except her daughters. It simply couldn't be.

Pulling away, she almost apologised and seeing the confusion in Andréa's eyes, and unable to explain turned on her Prada heels and walked away.

For a brief moment, as she felt Andréa's eyes piercing her, the little voice hissed in her head that it was only fair Andréa felt something like she had when she walked from her side.

The weeks turned into months with Stephen doing his best to upend her world. When details of his infidelity came to light, he sold his story to the highest bidder and provided lurid details of their personal life, telling the world she was emotionally deficient and frigid.

To save her darling daughters the pain of having to wrestle their way through the press, Miranda had Emily organise their schooling sent them to their father's along with Patricia. The house was far too quiet on an evening, and she found herself spending more time at Runway to compensate.

The day her divorce was finalised, she left Runway and make her way home. Her girl's, upon being told the news, had requested to come home and she had agreed. They would be returning to her that weekend.

Once at the townhouse, she noted the lack of press outside her home and sighed. It had been an extraordinarily long few months, but now she could hopefully get her life back.

Stalking down the darkened hallway towards the kitchen, she dished up the Ceasar Salad Cara had left and started to eat in darkness. She set the plate in the dishwasher before moving to her study and flicking the switch on a beautiful Tiffany lamp that sat on a side table, cast the room in low light.

The sound of something falling on the floor at the front door caught her attention, and she moved briskly towards it. Seeing the thick cream envelope, she picked it up and recognised it was addressed to her in Andréa's precise script. She held it close.

Throwing the door open, she watched the woman in question spin on her heel and glance at her. She knew her own eyes would be holding all the uncertainty, the relief and the hope she held.

Andréa jogged back up the stoop and for a few seconds, their eyes met and held. She saw the brunette searching her gaze as if seeking answers to some yet unknown question.

Stepping aside, she gestured for the woman to enter her home and smirked at the sight of her Andréa shuffling nervously in her foyer. She proceeded to walk back to her study without uttering a word.

Dropping the note on her desk, Miranda couldn't stop herself from seeking out the younger woman's warmth and their embrace was gentle yet fierce. She clutched at Andréa, unwilling to let her go again now she was with her once more.

Miranda answered the younger woman's initial query, advising her she was tired. She understood Andréa would see the meaning behind the words. She hid her disbelief over the young woman asking what she could do and decided to speak truthfully. "Just let me hug you for a while."

Andréa smiled softly and her arms tightened around her. Miranda simply found herself basking in the comfort offered so willingly until her feet throbbing had her pulling away reluctantly.

She led Andréa by the hand to the sofa, where she eased her feet from the prison of the five-inch heels and settled into the circle of the brunette's arms, tucking her feet under her.

She couldn't stop, even if she had wanted to, the small sigh of contentment. She rested her head against Andréa's chest, listening to her strong heartbeat and her arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

The hug was healing and somehow she felt it bound them together. Looking up, she saw affection blazing in Andréa's eyes and the relief she felt was palpable. She nuzzled into the crook of Andréa's neck, inhaling the clean, crisp scent of the woman. and she felt safe.

The emotions tumbled from Miranda's lips easily. "I feel so safe when I am with you."

There, she had said it, finally. She glanced back up at Andréa and noticed her trying to hide the feelings her words had created, but she saw the flicker of hope, expressed by tears, as Andréa placed the lightest of kisses on her head and assured her she was not alone.

Her arms tightened around Andréa and she smiled. Their embrace spoke volumes This was hello to the new, goodbye to the old. It was an apology for all the wrongs that had still, amazingly enough, brought them both to that moment.

Andréa's first hug had opened Miranda's mind to the possibility of a future together, a future she had not dared hope for.

Lifting her head, once more, Miranda stroked her fingers along Andréa's strong jaw and pulling her face down, caught her lips in a chaste kiss with no expectation of it being returned.

But as always, Andréa surprised her, and deepened their contact, offering a lingering kiss filled with an intense passion that showed her that this thing, that had grown unexpectedly between her and the younger woman, could lead to a love that would last a lifetime.

**xxxxxxxxxx**


End file.
